Until we meet again
by stilljustme
Summary: When the axe has fallen, Lola is welcomed by someone she has missed for months.


**I accidentally got to watch Lola's death… oh wow. This show left me devastated again. So I'm trying to get a closure… again. And I'd really like to know what you think of this one. I hope you enjoy it!**

Stéphane's eyes, wild with terror. Wood, darkened with the blood of those executed before her.  
Mary stepping out of the carriage in France; Kenna, Greer, Aylee, Mary and herself dancing in the golden light of hundreds of candles. Francis smiling at her, smiling at his son. Jean's eyes, big and innocent and curious about everything. Sleeping in her arms. Making his first steps, stumbling into Stéphane's arms. Smiling, all of them, smiling.  
Nothing.

* * *

"Lola? Lola! What are you doing here?"  
The voice seemed to come from everywhere around her, familiar from ages ago. Moments ago. Who knew?  
"My poor Lola." It was closer now, she felt it, felt the touch of someone's arm around her shoulders. "You're alright now. I know it's not much comfort but nobody will hurt you here."  
Carefully, she was put up and – why did her legs still work? Weren't they supposed to be limb and useless and… well, dead like the rest of her?

"Lola? It might help if you open your eyes." There was a faint chuckle in the voice now, as if she still wasn't grasping a secret, as if she still was following a wrong path like the one that had got her killed. Separated from everyone she loved.  
Except for those who were already dead.  
"Lola…"  
"I can't open my eyes, my head's gone!" Only when she closed her mouth again she realized she had it. "How… what…" Her fingers carefully moved upwards to where her face had been… and still was. "But that's impossible."  
"Trust me, it's not." The voice sounded strange now. "Up here, nothing is impossible. Except to get back."  
Now she recognized him, knew him before she opened her eyes and flung herself into his arms. "Francis!"

He held her, tight and gentle as she knew him to be, and warmer than he had been for months. "I missed you so much", she whispered.  
"I missed you, too. All of you." His voice was shaking with unshed tears, and Lola bit her lips to stop her own tears, to be strong for him as she had always tried to be. "She loved you so much", she said, avoiding the name because it was obvious who she was talking about, and because she feared it would break her apart to pronounce it, "she still loves you. And I know she misses you every day. But she is moving on, she will not give up."  
"I know." Carefully, Francis moved out of the embrace. "I can see her. She's stronger than she knows. I've always told her that, but…"  
"And that made her capable of moving on." Lola wiped a stray tear off her cheek. "Your belief in her made her go that far."  
Francis smiled sadly. "I wish I could have done more for her. But I have no doubt she will find her way." He looked at her knowingly. "As will Narcisse, as time goes by."

 _Stéphane_. Even his second name stabbed her like a blade. Her Stéphane. After all he had done to prove himself to her, he had now lost her all the same.  
"I know he did terrible things", she murmured, "I know you can't forgive him, but to me he was different. He was…"  
"He loves you", Francis said as he took her hand and led her through the blue darkness – no floors, no walls, it was as if they were flying – "I know not much about him but from the moment he said the words I knew at least they were true. He loves you, Lola, and for you, he loves our son. He will fight for him as he would have fought for you. I'll try to remember that when we'll meet again."  
"Do you think we will?"  
"I have to believe it." There it was again, the sad smile Lola had seen on him when they had met in Paris that day. That fateful day that had led to Jean. Lola couldn't hold back her tears as she thought of her precious boy, now left without both of his parents.  
"This is not how it ends, Lola." Francis put his arm around her again, soothingly. "I've been here long enough to think and this it not how it ends. This is where we wait. Wait for the one day when we'll all be together again. Come." He guided her through the nothingness as if there was a path to follow, and after a short time, the shadows faded. The space around her was still blue but she saw flakes of light now, like pearls sown to the walls, and beneath her feet it seemed like there were mountains, woods, rivers, a beautiful painting from a bird's perspective.  
"It's our world down there, Lola. Look closer and you can see England."  
"You're kidding." But his face told her it was the truth – Francis was no more as sick and pale as she had seen him alive, but there were deep wrinkles around his eyes, and he wasn't smiling anymore.  
Suddenly Lola felt ashamed. He had seen it all, she knew it. He had seen how she had mistaken the letter, how she had thought Mary capable of ordering her to murder Elizabeth. "I'm sorry, Francis. I should have known better. I should have known _her_ better."  
He shook his head. "It's not me you need to be sorry for. You husband is the one who has to live without you. Our son. And Mary." He knelt down beside Lola, and the longing on his face was so strong it choked her up. "How could you, Lola? How could you be so… how could you risk leaving them alone?"

She had no answer to that, she fell to her knees and cried. After a while she realized that between her fingers she could indeed look down to England, could focus right on her old house and through the stone to where her husband sat, cradling Jean. He had aged years, it seemed, but when Lola pushed herself even closer to him she still saw the fire inside him. The steady power she had come to trust and love.  
"You changed him", Francis said from afar, calm again, "and definitely for the better. He will never forget you, or let Jean forget you."  
"I want to be with them." Her voice had changed as well, it was heavy with what she had only now fully understood: that they were alive and she was dead, that they would go on without her and she would never be able to talk to them or feel them in her arms. "I'd give anything to be with them. Just one day more. One hour, one… Francis? Please."  
She looked up, tearing her eyes away from the two men she loved most. Francis shook his head, anger replaced by sympathy now. "Believe me, if there was a way, I would have found it. I would have taken it no matter the consequences."  
Lola closed her eyes and nodded; of course, if Francis had seen a chance to get back to Mary, he wouldn't have asked twice.  
"Promise me…" She took a deep, shaking breath and willed herself to stop sobbing. She was strong. She had to. Even if nobody except Francis was looking anymore. "Promise me we'll see them again. And promise me they'll be alright."

"I promise." He looked down again, no doubt finding his way to Mary – and Bash and Jean, probably – in a heartbeat. "Don't ask me how, but I know we will. This is not hell, but it's not heaven yet. Heaven is…" He broke off and closed his eyes. "I don't know how it will be", he whispered, "and if I have to share it with whomever Mary will choose to marry in the future, but I know she will be by my side again. That is the only way."  
"I see." Lola stood up. "It's just… hard to wish that the waiting may take a long time."  
"I know what you mean." Relieved Lola hear a faint chuckle in Francis' voice. "But we have to pray it will take a long time. For them. They deserve every day of happiness they can get down there."

"Yes, they do." Once again, Lola let her mind travel down to her husband and child. Jean was asleep, and Stéphane was staring out of the window with tears in his eyes. "I love you", she whispered. Then she pulled back and searched for her queen, her best friend. Mary obviously hadn't heard the news yet. She was awake, worried and nervous but determined. "You will be great queen", Lola smiled, "you've always been." She took a deep breath. "I will miss you. I hope you can forgive me in this life. If not, I'll explain it when we meet again. And until that…" Helplessly, she turned to Francis who had come here, too, invisible and silent but so intense that Lola couldn't believe Mary didn't feel his presence at all. He moved closer to his wife until his forehead, thin as air, touched hers. "Until that I'll see you in your dreams. And I will love you, Mary, through this life and the next, until we are together. I promise."


End file.
